Just over ten minutes ago, the scene deep within the Forbidden Forest was completely different.
A small campfire burned among the roots of several old oak trees. The flames were small and covered with a thin layer of black smoke, as if the firewood hadn't been completely dried before it was lit.
A short, stout man squatted beside the fire, his gray hair plastered to his forehead, and his tattered robe so dirty that its original color was no longer discernible.
Peter Pettigrew was skewering something on a sharpened twig and roasting it over the fire.
The stuff sizzled, and the grease dripping into the fire created a crackling sound. It smelled... to be honest, it actually smelled quite good.
Peter swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the lump of flesh that was gradually turning brownish-red, muttering to himself.
"Bake it a little longer, just a little longer and it'll be done."
Those were his kind.
To be precise, it was his Animagus counterpart—a rat.
Peter had some trouble catching it; the thing was incredibly fast, and he had to crawl on the ground and chase it down through several tree roots before he could finally pin it down.
But in the end, it's just a mouse; no matter how fast it is, it can't outrun him.
Peter took the roasted mouse down from the branch, blew on it, and took a bite.
It tastes alright, much better than eating it raw.
He chewed while cautiously looking around.
He dared not make the campfire too big, for fear of being seen, but the Forbidden Forest was damp and cold, and he simply couldn't bear it without a fire.
He's barely managed to get by these past few days thanks to this intermittent little fire.
In truth, his current predicament is entirely Dumbledore's fault.
That night, he slipped out of Ron's bed with a perfectly planned scheme: cross the grounds, sneak into the Forbidden Forest, circle around to the other end of the Forbidden Forest, and then get far away from Hogwarts to find a place where no one knew him and hide for a while.
But Dumbledore that he lay motionless in a crevice at the edge of the Forbidden Forest for three whole days.
It wasn't until the evening of the third day that he finally mustered the courage to crawl out from the crevice and run deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
If Dumbledore really knew where he was, he would have pulled him out from under the rock long ago; why would he need to stand in mid-air and shout?
That old guy is absolutely swamped. All the affairs of Hogwarts, big and small, are on his shoulders. Dementor are roaming the borders, parents are sending Howler to the school every day, and the Ministry of Magic is sending owls to ask questions from time to time.
Even if Dumbledore really wanted to stay by his side, he wouldn't have the time.
Once Peter understood this, he rushed into the Forbidden Forest without saying a word.
His plan was simple: cross the Forbidden Forest, slip out to the north, get out of Hogwarts territory, and then find his new master.
After all, given his own experiences here, once the truth comes out, the righteous factions in the Wizarding World will definitely not tolerate him, and he will have no choice but to seek refuge elsewhere.
Although the Dark Lord is now just a remnant of his soul, Peter believes that he will rise again sooner or later, and when that happens, Peter will be among the first to join him, and he'll surely be able to secure a decent position.
This plan sounds good.
Unfortunately, Peter wasn't very lucky.
He discovered within two days of entering the Forbidden Forest that although that old bastard Dumbledore didn't have time to keep an eye on him personally, he had no intention of doing so at all.
Dumbledore must have spoken to all the factions in the Forbidden Forest. Peter doesn't know exactly what he said, but the effect was obvious: a massive search for rats swept through the entire Forbidden Forest.
Horsemen moved through the forest in groups, their hooves clattering on the dry branches, longbows in their hands.
The offspring of the Acromantula were also alerted. Although the old spiders did not personally intervene, their offspring, whose legs were thicker than human arms, had already begun to scurry about in the forest.
Even unicorns, who normally never interact with wizards, became wary.
Peter had been hiding under a tree root, watching a group of centaurs walk past him, when he heard one of the younger centaurs ask the leader, "What are we looking for?"
The old man leading the group snorted, "Just catch any rat."
"A mouse? We're supposed to find a mouse?"
"There's a problem with a mouse. Headmaster Dumbledore said that if you find it, don't harm it; just drive it out to the field."
Peter almost cursed out loud.
Centaurs, Acromantula, unicorns... these creatures have lived in the Forbidden Forest for hundreds of years, knowing every blade of grass and every tree in the forest like the back of their hand, even more familiar with this territory than Dumbledore.
What's more troublesome is that Peter doesn't dare to walk in the Forbidden Forest in human form at all.
The centaurs searching for rats in the Forbidden Forest would immediately come over and question anyone who saw a humanoid figure.
How will he explain that then?
A dirty middle-aged man wandering around in the Forbidden Forest? He's a hundred times more conspicuous than a rat.
So Peter could only remain as a mouse, hiding among tree roots and crevices in rocks.
The problem is that he can't stay in rat form forever; when he gets too hungry, he has to turn back into a human to make a fire and cook something to eat.
Every time I transform back, I have to look around nervously for a long time to make sure there are no centaurs or spiders nearby before I dare to strike a match.
After several days of going hungry, Peter finally couldn't take it anymore.
The search in the Forbidden Forest kept him completely immobile. To the south lay the grounds of Hogwarts, and to the north lay the depths of the Forbidden Forest, where centaurs and spiders roamed.
He was caught in the middle, unable to choose either side.
In other words, he was trapped in the Forbidden Forest.
Peter took another bite of the roasted rat, chewing it viciously.
--Of course, Peter was extremely unlucky.
If he could see Chapter 19 of the unpublished second half of Allen's * Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban *, he would find that Sirius Black had said this to Harry:
[I traveled north, disguised myself as a dog, and sneaked into the Hogwarts arena. Since then, I've lived in the Forbidden Forest, though I occasionally sneak off to watch Quidditch Match.]
Therefore, when a slight rustling sound came from the bushes to Peter's left, and a black dog's head peeked out, he couldn't help but freeze in place and felt an unparalleled sense of fear and panic.
Peter, with half a mouse still dangling from his mouth, watched a skinny black dog, its ribs clearly visible, standing about seven or eight steps from the campfire, looking up at him.
The firelight reflected in its gray eyes, making them appear unusually bright.
The mouse in Peter's mouth trembled and fell to the ground.
He certainly recognized those eyes... and that black dog.
Twelve years ago, when he sat with that person on the lawn of Hogwarts, basking in the sun, he remembered those eyes.
At that moment, those eyes were smiling, squinting into slits in the sunlight, as the person patted him on the shoulder and said, " Wormtail, you're my best friend."
Later, those bloodshot and crazed eyes stared at him from the ruins of the Muggle street, and the man said, "I'm going to kill you."